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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22933003">holy terrain</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefudge/pseuds/thefudge'>thefudge</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Gisaengchung, Parasite (2019)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Disturbing Themes, F/M, Parasite Spoilers, Sibling Incest</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 07:21:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,880</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22933003</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefudge/pseuds/thefudge</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>This house, they think, this house. They can blame it on that. </p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jessica/Kevin, Kim Ki-jung/Kim Ki-woo, Kim Ki-woo/Kim Ki-jung</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>171</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>holy terrain</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>...anyway, you should watch this movie and come back and read this (cuz otherwise it won't make much sense)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Think of the discomfort of having freckles in one's throat," she said. "Not to mention little beetles."</p><p>- aldous huxley, <em>point counter point </em></p><p> </p><p>throw loads of gold on you just to fall asleep, yeah<br/>i hope you never take my love, yeah, in vain, yeah</p><p>- fka twigs, <em>holy terrain </em></p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>“Are your legs asleep?” she asks, after half an hour of sitting in his lap.</p><p>“Hm?” her brother asks without looking up from his phone. He’s sitting on the toilet lid. Since there’s no room elsewhere, she is sitting on him, or, to be more specific, between his knees. She’s lying sideways, hard shoulder resting against his soft chest, feet dangling over the edge of their imperial elevation. There’s something very tender about their hanging bodies, but they cannot feel the tenderness. It’s the only place with free Wi-Fi in the house.  </p><p>Ki-jung is not worried about his legs. She’s just wondering. </p><p>Sometimes when she shifts, she can feel the bulge between his thighs. There’s probably some unwritten law about having your brother’s junk pressed up against your ass. She giggles a little at the thought. She imagines him getting hard by accident, like boys usually do. But Ki-woo is too smart for that. No one knows just how smart he is. He doesn’t lose control like an idiot. And anyway, she’s already seen his penis. There’s nothing strange about that. If you live like mice, you end up seeing your insides too.</p><p>“What did you say, Ki-jung?” he finally asks, putting down his phone.</p><p>She lifts her head and stares at his chin. “Nothing. What are you reading?”</p><p>“Online marketing course,” he says, and rests his arm against her waist.   </p><p>“Sounds pretty stupid.”</p><p>Ki-woo pulls on a lock of her hair.  She swats his hands away. </p><p>“It’s stuff we already know but said with very pretty, useless words,” he tells her. </p><p>Ki-jung smiles. “We could practically write the whole course.” </p><p>“Yes. But we wouldn’t post it online for free.”</p><p>“Fuck no. We’re not morons.”</p><p>Ki-woo laughs and tugs on the same lock of auburn hair. He brings it to his lips and starts chewing on the split ends. </p><p>She nudges him. “Stop doing that.”</p><p>“Might not get any other lunch today,” he mumbles, still with her hair in his mouth.</p><p>Ki-jung grabs his chin, sinking her nails into his cheeks. “I said stop it.” </p><p>He spits out her hair. </p><p>Their faces are very close. They both grin. They’re still kids. </p><p>Their mother calls for them to help fold pizza boxes. </p><p>
  <br/>
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</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>They climb up the clean, rain-washed streets, their black shoes making soft squelching sounds. Vegetation here has a different fragrance. It grows in parceled little squares, away from people and their disgusting activities.</p><p>“We look like fucking missionaries,” she says, staring at her brother’s ironed college-man suit. </p><p>He looks at her prim black two-piece and smiles. “Maybe, but we’re selling a better story. We’re more useful, too. We are providing a real service.” </p><p>Ki-jung nudges him in the shoulder. “What service is that?”</p><p>“Relieving those poor souls of their money. You know, money is the root of all evil.” </p><p>She smirks. “Right. We’re very generous to take that nasty stuff off their hands.” </p><p>Ki-woo taps her nose affectionately. “Precisely.”</p><p>She slaps his hand away. That’s her affection. </p><p>“It’s gonna be a problem,” she remarks.</p><p>“What is?”</p><p>“Going back home after this. Shit, I can feel my lungs expanding. Finally smelling oxygen and not stir fry.” </p><p>She’s right. The air up here is rarefied. Ki-woo licks his lips. He wants to make a sudden vainglorious promise that she will have this air one day, bathe in it from dusk till dawn. He has a plan. He’ll go to college, make money. She can help. In fact, he’ll need her skills. They both have brains large enough to breathe in all this air. But he doesn’t say anything, because he knows she hates his optimism. So he only thinks, <em> partner in crime </em> and smiles to himself. </p><p>What would he do without family, without her?</p><p>She stops him before he presses the button on the intercom. Already playing the role of bossy teacher. She rehearses the little ditty he taught her. </p><p>
  <em> Jessica, only child, Illinois, Chicago, classmate Kim Jin-mo, he’s your cousin.  </em>
</p><p>He sings the words with her. Their voices go together effortlessly. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Perhaps he’s being modest, but he didn’t think his charge would fall so quickly for his charms. He didn’t think he had any. He’s pleasantly surprised. Da-hye’s crush is extremely flattering, but he can’t help but feel a little contempt for her. </p><p>It becomes risible when she starts asking about “Jessica”. </p><p>“Is she really your classmate’s cousin?” Da-hye needles. </p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“She’s your girlfriend, right?” </p><p>Ki-woo guffaws. No one’s ever made that mistake before. It tickles the back of his throat. He reaches for the mug of sweet tea. </p><p>His first instinct is to say , <em> I wish, </em> which is just a stupid joke. He clears his throat. “No way... I just met her today.” </p><p>“Jessica’s really pretty, isn’t she?” Da-hye insists, self-effacing, fishing for a trout of compliments. </p><p>“You saw her?”</p><p>His pupil lowers her head. “I was curious. Her hair is so beautiful too. I want to ask her what brand conditioner she uses.”</p><p>Ki-woo clicks his jaw. There were many weeks when his sister just used soap. </p><p>“Well, aren’t you interested?” Da-hye insists abjectly. </p><p>Ki-woo tips her chin up. “Actually, it sounds like you’re the one who is interested.”</p><p>The young girl opens her mouth. “What?” </p><p>“The way you go on about her. Do you have a crush on Jessica?” he asks with a thin smile. </p><p>“N-no…”</p><p>“She’s a beautiful woman. I’m sure you have thought about women, even by mistake.” </p><p>Da-hye’s eyes are so wide they look like leaking faucet mouths. Ki-woo is proud of himself for drawing out that reaction. He likes his cruelty. Like a pet lizard come out to play. He knows it’s what made her like him in the first place. </p><p>“I don’t know…” Da-hye mumbles, frightened and excited.</p><p>“Maybe you’ve thought about them naked,” Ki-woo continues mildly, as if mentioning a particularly thorny English exercise which requires patience. “They're like you, but not <em> entirely </em>you. You said you're curious. You like to spy. You must be curious about this. Would you like to see Jessica naked?” </p><p>“I...no…she...wouldn’t...”</p><p>“Oh, she would, for a pretty girl like you. It could be the three of us, if you like,” he adds with a glint in his eye.</p><p>And the stupid dolt is actually contemplating it, mouth agape, practically drooling. Her sheltered life is suddenly a house of feeble cards.  </p><p>Ki-woo bursts into laughter. </p><p>“Ah, your face. I’m sorry, Da-hye, I’m only teasing. Bad teasing. No, I’m not interested in Jessica.” </p><p>Da-hye breathes in and out harshly, laughs. She feels stupid. Tears prick her eyes.</p><p>He reaches out with his thumb and captures a tear. He lowers his thumb until it is level with her mouth. He doesn’t have to tell her. Da-hye quickly licks the tear. </p><p>
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</p><p> </p><p>“These people are so helpless. Like special needs children. Like they're <em>begging</em> to get scammed,” Ki-jung says, biting into the cauliflower viciously. </p><p>Ki-woo laughs. “I know. I have Da-hye <em>literally</em> eating from the palm of my hand.” </p><p>Their father congratulates them both on their ingenuity and heaps more food on their plates. <em>Eat up.</em> It's nice to be providers. They’re dining well tonight. </p><p>Later, Ki-jung sits on the gutter ledge and smokes.</p><p>Ki-woo sits next to her. He feels bolder than usual. He takes the cigarette from her lips and brings it to his mouth.</p><p>She raises an eyebrow. “You don’t smoke.”</p><p>He coughs and passes it back. “Guess not.”</p><p>“What’s up?” </p><p>“How come you never had a boyfriend?” he asks, thinking of something entirely different.</p><p>Ki-jung blows smoke like a question mark. “Have you seen the guys around here? Bunch of pimply rats.”</p><p>“Not the guys from around here. Good guys who go to college, who have money for a movie and dinner date. Even Min wanted to take you out at one point.” </p><p>Ki-jung folds her arms over her chest. “I don’t need his charity.”</p><p>“It wouldn’t have been charity, and you know it.”</p><p>Ki-jung kicks the wall with her foot. </p><p>She used to yearn for a boy like that. She used to have a crush on Min, too. But she can’t tell her brother that. He wouldn’t make fun of her. On the contrary, he would say something sweet and comforting, because he’s good with people, good with her. That’s why she can’t tell him. She doesn’t want him to see her like that. She doesn’t want him to know she’s ashamed of who she is, ashamed she’ll never be good enough for anyone. </p><p>She lifts her head. “I know. I’m better than all of them.”</p><p>Ki-woo smiles. “Da-hye thinks you’re beautiful. She’s so jealous.” </p><p>Ki-jung isn’t particularly comforted by the notion. She shrugs. “She can get plastic surgery like everyone else.” </p><p>“She’d still be jealous,” Ki-woo says, just to say something. When he’s with his sister, he doesn’t have to think about his words too deliberately. “No surgery could make her like you. That’s what they don’t get.” </p><p>And he picks up a loose strand of hair, as he always does, but he doesn’t play with it. He pulls it behind her ear. </p><p>Ki-jung looks up at him. His features are smudged, like ink stains. She can’t read him. </p><p>“Just don’t have sex with her, because then it gets complicated.” </p><p>Ki-woo lowers his hand and pinches her jaw. “That’s none of your business.”</p><p>“Yes, it is.”</p><p>He likes it, the way she says,<em> yes, it is.  </em></p><p>
  <br/>
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</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>(he also likes picturing her walking home without her panties, getting off at Hyehwa station, sitting down on the subway, legs slightly parted. he tries not to think about it, but she brings it up often, brags about her quick thinking. and his parents don't seem to care about their daughter's modesty.</p><p>so fine, he won't either.) </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>She’s a <em>contessa</em> in the bubble bath. He wasn’t just fooling around when he told her it suits her. She looks like she belongs in this house. Like she was <em> born </em>in this house. Sculpted from cherrywood. The old architect who lived here breathed life into her. Movie star material. He never noticed her blue blood before. </p><p>So many things in this house look like they were created here. Beauty was made here too. It’s enough to make your chest hurt. </p><p>He brings her sparkling water from the fridge to cool off. </p><p>Ki-jung lifts a lazy hand from the bath. “Ah, telepathy. Thank you.”</p><p>She looks like she’s bathing in milk. The white foam glints off her neck and chest and he suddenly remembers a video he saw when he was too young where a man gave a woman a necklace of his cum and she had to wear it until it got cool and only then could she clean it, one drop at a time with her finger and tongue. </p><p>Maybe it’s not just beauty that’s born in this house. </p><p>Ki-jung lifts her arm towards him. “Smell my hand. It doesn’t smell like basement anymore.” </p><p>Ki-woo sits down on the edge of the tub and brings her hand to his nose. She smells good.</p><p>With her other hand, Ki-jung flicks water into his face. </p><p>Ki-woo shakes his head. “Naughty Jessica.” </p><p>They start splashing each other hungrily, until most of the water floods the bronze interstices in the marble floor. </p><p>She drags him with her in the tub and they wrestle in the dregs of her bath. She’s naked on top of him and the foam is a distant memory. </p><p>Ki-woo’s hands grab onto her waist, to try to lift her off him. </p><p>Ki-jung sticks like glue. </p><p>They’ve seen each other naked before. But never in this house.</p><p>Up close, her breasts are breasts and not just parts of her body his eyes glaze over in the too tiny bathroom of their basement. He notices then the small mole on the underside of her right breast. He’d never seen it before. How had he not seen it before? He stares at it, suddenly feeling the need to touch it to verify its existence. Maybe even put his mouth there. Just to see. To see with his mouth, like an eyeball in his mouth. </p><p>Ki-jung shivers and her skin prickles.</p><p>Telepathy. </p><p>She stands up abruptly, grabs her breast, weighs it in her palm and points at the mole.</p><p>“Yeah, this one’s recent. Wasn’t there a year ago. I think it’s a stress mole.”</p><p>Ki-woo laughs, throat bobbing. <em> Stress mole. </em> The things she says sometimes. </p><p>Ki-jung frowns. “I have to shower off now. Or are you gonna stay for that too?”</p><p>He doesn’t. </p><p>
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</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Their parents don’t see the change, because they’re changing too. The house doesn’t understand family. </p><p>She’s Jessica and he’s Kevin now.</p><p>Without realizing it, they start acting the part. Strangers with common friends. Attractive young people who just met. </p><p>Jessica remarks how much better Kevin looks now that he’s eating a healthy diet and getting enough fresh air. </p><p>They lounge in the manicured grass, looking up at the sky. </p><p>“What classes are you taking at the university?” she asks idly.</p><p>“Marketing and organizational psychology. I want to work for big companies. Manage their psychosis.”</p><p>Jessica grins. “Manage their psychosis. You sound like you know what you’re talking about.”</p><p>“I do know. What about you? Thinking of going back to Chicago?”</p><p>She shakes her head. “No way. It’s cold as fuck over there. I don’t like the snow.”</p><p>“Why not?”</p><p>“Snow makes everything look pretty when it’s not.”</p><p>Kevin turns his head. “Have you always had such a bleak view of existence?” </p><p>Jessica tangles her foot with his in the grass. Has this lawn ever known snakes?  “Existence is pretty good right now. Here.”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>She smiles. “Yes.” </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>There’s garlands of food everywhere, like a giant worm, splattered and splintered on the floor and the couch, entrails of ceramic bowls and corn beef and half-eaten candy bars. Their shirts are bathed in whiskey and their parents have fallen asleep on the floor, mother on top of father, snoring.</p><p>Jessica and Kevin giggle. </p><p>She straddles him on the couch and tosses her hair out of her face. </p><p>Kevin burps, puts his hands on her waist and brings her a little closer.  </p><p>“Hi,” she says.</p><p>“Hello.” </p><p>She bends down and pecks his lips. </p><p>Kevin also pecks her lips. </p><p>“Mm, you taste like I’m drunk,” he mumbles. </p><p>Jessica stares at him archly.</p><p>“Idiot. Does that mean you won’t be able to get it up?” </p><p>She meant for it to sound bold and cool and indifferent, but it comes out like she's the nurse at the medical exam. </p><p>Kevin blinks. His tongue feels clumsy. He tries to joke it off. “No...ha, ha, I just gotta warm it up.” </p><p>Jessica grinds herself against his lap. “It’s not a casserole.” </p><p>He winces. “You’re not helping.”</p><p>“Oh, you mean this?” </p><p>She rolls her hips, gyrating slowly against his bulge. She presses him back against the couch. </p><p>Kevin’s eyes go wide and then half-lidded. </p><p>His hands burrow under her shirt greedily and stroke the rigid column of her spine, squeezing her tiny body between his fingers.</p><p>He palms her breasts and stomach, up and down, like mapping her for future explorations. </p><p>He’s already got his mouth half-open when Jessica kisses him so his tongue meets her tongue instantly, and they both start back, but the jolt is pleasant. So they keep going. </p><p>It’s excitement and familiarity.  A great mix of the best things in life. They could have been doing this for years. Kevin grips the side of her face and deepens the kiss the way they do it in movies and she moans right into his mouth. Fuck, that's good. </p><p>Jessica can feel him grow hard under her. She’s never been prouder of her accomplishments.</p><p>If she doesn’t pull down his pants soon, he might have an accident. </p><p>She closes her eyes and sinks her hand into his boxers and touches the coiling warmth there. His cock strains and slips and leaks against her hand. </p><p>Kevin breaks the kiss with a sharp hiss. </p><p>“Jessica...are you sure about...this?” </p><p>She strokes his shaft with parted lips and Kevin has to bite into her shoulder. It feels so good, better for her than him, almost. She’s drunk on the power of it. </p><p>“We’re rich,” she says, by way of explanation. “Rich people invented incest, right? Fucking perverts.” </p><p>“Fucking perverts,” he echoes, sucking on her earlobe. </p><p>Jessica cranes her neck. </p><p>He grips her to him and cums into her hand as she milks every drop. </p><p>She grinds against his softening cock, trying to console her own wetness. She wants more, but she also thinks this is just perfect, the way it is. </p><p>And then, the hazy, sex-filled silence is broken by the intercom. </p><p>And they have to quickly break apart as their parents blink awake.</p><p>
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</p><p> </p><p>The man in the bunker under the house would horrify them more if they were not still lust-addled. Everything happened too fast. They crouch next to each other on the slippery stone steps and feel each other’s breaths, falling in sync like a lullaby. </p><p>The pockmarked housekeeper stuffs a banana into her wretched husband’s mouth as she tells Chung-sook about their financial troubles. Everything is a freak show. And Kevin and Jessica feel that they fit right in. They should come out of hiding and reveal themselves as part of the circus. </p><p>Kevin starts laughing quietly. Jessica looks up at him with mischief. She remembers that stupid American movie they sometimes played at Christmas. That one had a Kevin in it too. He set traps around his big mansion house to keep the thieves out. Because god forbid he share anything. Fuck that kid. What if they fucked right on these stairs? His round buttocks pushing into her tight pussy, she thinks, like a porn star. They’d cut themselves to the bone. It would be pretty fucking fantastic. Would it scare the old people around them? </p><p>She reaches up and pinches his nipple over his shirt and he squeezes her hand and they slip and fall down the stairs, along with their father.  </p><p>Ki-woo manages to break her fall.</p><p>He cradles her to him, but blood still falls liberally from a gash in her forehead.</p><p>That’s when she wakes up.</p><p> </p><p>
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</p><p> </p><p>They spend most of the night hidden under the table as the Parks have dry sex on the couch and their kid plays Indian in the tent outside. </p><p>Ki-woo tries to take his sister’s hand in his, but she deftly avoids his touch. </p><p>The stupid wife’s skittish moans sound like her moans. The impotent husband’s labored breaths sounds like his breaths. This <em>was</em> them, hours ago. </p><p><em>This house </em> , they think, <em> this house. </em></p><p>They can blame it on that. </p><p>
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</p><p> </p><p>Ki-woo wades through the water and thinks that this flood is probably behooving punishment. The rain has submerged their basement and all their belongings are sludge and shit. Brackish shit water, black and oily, makes him want to throw up. He does. The vomit turns to the same all-powerful shit. </p><p>Ki-jung sits with her feet propped on the toilet, trying to stop the fecal deluge. She grips one lonely cigarette between her teeth and laugh cries. She closes her eyes. She jumps into the reeking pool and it is clear and sweet as spring water. She drinks greedily. She is a delicate mermaid whose fin is encrusted with pearls and topaz and sapphires and she has to be careful not to spill precious stones. She swims through the house in search of treasure. But she <em> is </em>the treasure.</p><p>Her brother catches her by the fin and pulls her ashore. </p><p>She'd like to stay there. </p><p>He drags her out of the house. She hides her face in the hollow of his throat as he carries her out. </p><p>
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</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“I don’t want to lose you,” he says to her quietly, guiltily. </p><p>No one snores in the gym. Every family is awake. The neighborhood holds a wake for itself. The rain still drones on outside. </p><p>Ki-jun doesn’t turn to look at him. She hugs her knees. “You won’t.”</p><p>Ki-woo drags himself closer, spoons her. He tucks his chin into the side of her throat. “Please don’t hate me. I’ll fix it. I’ll fix everything.” </p><p>Ki-jun breathes in the smell of despair, soaked into their skins. </p><p>“Why would I hate you?”</p><p>There are some things more important than them. What they did doesn’t even matter anymore. </p><p>“Let’s go back to before,” he whispers. “Before we met those people.”</p><p>She nods wanly. </p><p><em> We are those people </em>, she thinks cheerlessly. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p><em> I don’t want to lose you </em>. </p><p>The plea keeps ringing in her head and she doesn’t know why it follows her, why she already feels lost. You can’t lose family. That’s the problem. She’ll have to live with it, with everything. The white cake she carries to the lawn is a birthday cake but she thinks of wedding cakes, of her parents' romance, their marriage, giving birth to them. It isn't right anymore. It's still a birthday cake. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p><em> I don’t want to lose you </em>, he thinks as the man from the bunker pulls the cord and chokes him and he falls down to the floor, like a rat in a trap, and the crag rock of destiny he can’t avoid slams into his temples. His last thought is of Jessica, the stranger he fell in love with.  </p><p>
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</p><p> </p><p>The knife sinks under her right shoulder, tears her flesh right down to the stress mole on her breast. She throws the white cake in the killer’s face. That brings a wry smile to her face. She lowers herself to the grass willingly, and thinks about Kevin and his mannered way of speaking. He’s going to go very far in the world. He's going to manage their psychoses, one day. </p><p> </p><p>
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  <em>I don't want to lose you.</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Ki-woo walks the streets.  </p><p>He doesn’t speak to anyone anymore. He writes letters to his absent father, but they don’t make much sense. </p><p>His mother fears the brain surgery has made him unable to understand the world anymore. She preferred it when he laughed uncontrollably. </p><p>Ki-woo plots in his mind. He plots to kill and maim not just one family, but all families, everyone on this hill. He marks each house with his finger. If he burned them, would the smoke reach his father’s bunker? Would he choke?</p><p>There’s a chance he could see him one day.</p><p>If he makes enough money to buy the house.</p><p>But there is no chance of seeing her again, no matter how much money he makes.</p><p>The street lights blink narration in his wake. His sister’s words follow him on his nightly vigils. <em> Are your legs asleep?  </em></p><p><em> No </em> , he answers. <em> I’m still walking.  </em></p><p>He sees Jessica in the distance, wearing the same black skirt. He should have taken it off her when he had the chance.</p><p>She looks over her shoulder and smiles at him. <em> Come along. We have work to do.  </em></p><p>What would he do without her? </p><p>He doesn't want to find out.</p><p>He follows. </p><p>Dragging the rock behind him. </p>
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